One Fear
by HTFNoelle
Summary: Claude is so eloquent when he finally confesses to Byleth, but he had years to figure himself out. When he first realized his feelings it had to be something of a shock, right? Right. On a definitely unrelated note here's a story from his school days.
1. Chapter 1

It was late in the Wyvern Moon, but the sun had chosen that day to pretend it was still midsummer. Not a cloud had bothered to show up, and the wind in Garreg Mach was little more than a lazy breeze. Honestly, it reminded Claude a bit of home as midday rolled around and he would've liked nothing better than to nap.

Instead he was in the training grounds, axe in hand, about to face off against Teach. Both of them were using wooden weapons, but he wasn't looking forward to what was about to happen. Especially considering that the rest of his classmates were sitting around to watch, ostensibly to wait for their own match against her, but really to see their illustrious house leader get schooled.

"You know Teach," he said, deciding to make one last ditch effort, "It's a clear day outside, barely any wind. It's perfect for archery practice."

She looked up from where she had been examining her training sword, studying him silently, and he allowed himself the faint hope that she'd agree.

"Claude's right! It's such a beautiful day, and we're spending it cooped up in the training hall. Let's do something else." Hilda chimed in sweetly from the sidelines.

Claude shot her a pained look. Her stamp of approval only made it more obvious what he was trying to do. Hilda smiled back at him, her expression suspiciously innocent, and he suppressed a groan.

"I would prefer you and the other archery students practice under adverse weather. We do not know what the conditions will be like at Grondor Field." Teach said, her monotone holding no hint of treachery, but Claude let himself feel a bit betrayed anyways as she continued, "If you do not want the first bout, however, you can switch places with another who is willing."

At that, Leonie and Felix took a step forward, but Claude avoided their gazes and shot her his best hurt look, "What are you saying? As if I would ever miss out on a lesson from my dear Teach! I'm ready when you are."

She gave him a single sharp nod, swinging her sword up into a ready position. Then, without a word, she launched herself at him.

She could have hammered him with a flurry of blows, looking for a gap in his defenses. He'd seen her do it enough times in actual battles. But, for all the speed and power she threw behind her first attack, it was just a basic lunge.

He deflected it with the haft of his axe, sliding out of the way so she brushed past him instead. Then he turned, only to be met with her bringing her sword at him in a swift, arcing sideblow; it was another basic move, using her momentum to lend even more power to the swing. Claude leaped back rather than try and block it.

Teach continued to attack with precision and purpose, but every move was one Claude had seen many times before. Moves that he knew the correct responses to because she'd drilled them into him over the last several months.

Oh, sure, it wasn't like she was simply jabbing at him mechanically. Her strikes blended into each other, creating a rhythm that was constantly changing. A rhythm that he could just keep up with; one that left him little time for making his own attacks as he was constantly blocking, parrying, dodging, and countering. But there was no creativity, no overbearing power. Only Teach testing him again and again and again.

It would just be nice to think he was making a dent. Like he had a chance at pressuring her, forcing her to bring out that ridiculous strength he saw so often in battle. But even when he managed to land a blow, her expression didn't flicker. And, honestly, he would have settled for that. It would be nice to see her react. It would be nice to tease her like he did his other opponents. To see her surprised, or riled, or rising to the bait, but against Teach words were just a waste of breath.

So instead, Claude weathered her attacks. He struck out where he could. He let his muscle memory lead him through the counters and blocks she so clearly wanted to test him on. But he knew he would start to tire soon, and his Teach wasn't slowing in the slightest, so eventually he decided to be wasteful and said, "Come on, is this all you've got? We're going to be here all day!"

Claude made sure to grin at her, but a second later her sword slammed into the haft of his axe and the side of one of his hands. He'd just slightly mispositioned it while boasting. He winced from the pain, but it wasn't a real injury.

She didn't press the attack. Instead, her movements stuttered for an instant, giving him enough time to recover. Deliberately, he was sure. Claude grit his teeth.

"And here I thought you were a good listener." He said, with wide, hurt eyes. He would have added a gasp for good measure, but his breathing was already picking up.

Teach made no expression, no response, but this time Claude executed his parry perfectly, shoving her back a step. He followed her, trying to force her on the defensive.

He managed it, and it was a wonderful change of pace to show her how well she'd taught him to _attack_ with an axe. It would never feel as natural as using a bow, but there was something very satisfying about how the clacking of their weapons turned into crashing as his blows rained down.

He broke through her guard once, then twice, but they were only glancing hits. The rest were dodged or redirected, and all too soon she was back in control. Claude was pushed backwards, the rhythm of Teach's attacks picking up from before. Maybe he could wrest back the initiative and force her to defend again, but more likely he would just be ground down by her. A boring way to go, all things considered. If he would lose, he'd much rather do it with style. That at least might get a reaction.

He saw his chance when she came at him with a slash to his side. It was the same as she had done earlier, spinning her whole body to give the strike momentum. It was best to dodge rather than try and deflect or block, since there was so much power behind the blow. But it also meant she had to commit to it wholeheartedly. So, when Claude moved his axe to block and their weapons crashed together, she stayed locked with him, weapon to weapon.

It was just for a second, but Claude used it to headbutt her. Hard. It hurt him as much as her, but he'd known it was coming. She reeled back. He saw her eyes widen through the stars in his vision, and he wanted to laugh. Instead, he swung his axe, slamming it into her side before she could recover.

Claude was expecting a grunt of pain or maybe a stumble, but instead Teach was sent to the ground. She didn't turn it into a roll to recover, either. She just… fell, and was still.

"...What?" Claude said after a second, looking down at her.

There was no response, and around him, the other students were murmuring.

"Did anyone hear a c-crunch?" came Bernadetta's voice, "I heard a crunch. Oh— oh no! Oh no!"

The murmuring picked up, some in agreement, some not, but Claude just looked at all of them in disbelief.

"It's our _Teach_, you guys! She's fine." He told them, but when he looked back at her, she still wasn't moving. Ridiculous. She was fine, there was no way— he'd show them.

He started to walk over to her, his voice much quieter as he said, "You _are_ fine, right? I didn't mean—"

Claude never got to finish his sentence. The instant he was close enough, Teach lashed out, sweeping his legs out from under him. He fell flat on his back, getting the breath knocked out of him and losing his axe for good measure.

Laughter sounded from the sidelines, and Claude would have probably joined them if he wasn't too busy gasping for breath. Before he could recover, he was cast in shadow as Teach stood over him. It might have been intimidating, but he was happy for the shade. It made blinking the lingering stars out of his eyes easier. He looked up at her. There was sand in her hair, her eyelashes, and an angry red mark was already obvious on her forehead.

Teach pressed the edge of her wooden blade lightly against his neck, looking down at him with a nearly impassive expression. Nearly. Her brows were raised a fraction with what Claude decided was amusement.

"Do you yield?" She asked.

Claude winked at her and said, "I don't know, Teach. Should I? You aren't setting a very good example by playing with my tender emotions. That was just underhanded."

The other students had plenty to say about that, but Claude tuned them out. The sound of Lorenz's scoff, however, was unmistakable.

Her gaze never wavered from his. She said, "I was merely following your example, Claude. It is a poor warrior who does not adapt to their circumstances."

"That's fair." He said, before throwing sand in her eyes.

Teach, quick as always, raised a hand in time to block, but Claude still got the opening he needed.

He darted away, trying and failing to get his feet under him as he was sent somersaulting forward by a strike from her sword. He was tumbling in the direction he wanted though, coming to a stop right next to where his axe had fallen. Claude snatched it up, spinning around just in time to block another strike from her.

The crack of wood on wood rang out with a surprising amount of noise, and Claude had a moment to grin triumphantly at her before a chorus of booing erupted from the sidelines.

"You had clearly lost, Claude. I can't believe you threw sand at the Professor!" Lysithea said, her voice carrying above the rest.

Claude's grin faded, and he almost glared over at the whole disloyal herd of them, but he wasn't about to let some heckling make him throw the match.

With a heave, he managed to shove Teach's blade away, giving him time to retreat. She didn't follow at once, instead choosing to circle him. Claude kept his eyes fixed on her as he called out, "Oh, so it's fine when she plays dead, but a little sand is going too far? I'm feeling a bit of favoritism in the crowd today."

"Turnabout is fair play, Claude. You, on the other hand—" Lorenz replied, the end of his insult lost amid another burst of playful jeering from the other students.

Before Claude could say anything, Teach spoke up, "Claude did not yield, so the match will continue, and I would encourage you all to stop ridiculing his resourcefulness."

That did a way better job at shutting everyone up than he could have, and Claude made sure to circle so they could all see the smile on his face.

He didn't get any time to savor that, though, because she closed with him again.

Her first strike slammed into the haft of his axe so hard that Claude found himself sliding backwards a few inches. He swallowed, but he didn't see any anger in her expression, and when she spoke, Claude could've sworn he heard a hint of eagerness in her voice, "I am sure there are other techniques you have yet to try. Demonstrate them for the class."

Before he could respond, she lashed out again, kicking at one of his legs. Claude barely dodged in time, breaking away from her.

She followed, unwilling to give him any time to recover now. Claude was getting his wish, sort of, anyway. She wasn't just throwing simple attacks at him anymore, and whenever their weapons connected there was a satisfying crash of wood on wood.

His hands were already going numb from it, but he grinned wolfishly at her as she bore down on him, managing to say between her strikes, "Teach, I have schemes, not techniques. And I'll show you mine if you show me yours."

That got him a round of groans and a smattering of laughs from the watching students, which was exactly as he'd hoped. At least until Claude saw Sylvain shoot him a thumbs up. Then he just felt a pang of disappointment with himself.

Only for a second, though. The next moment, Teach was taking his suggestion to heart, locking their weapons together and twisting her whole body to try and wrench the axe from his hands. It almost worked, but he disentangled himself at the last moment.

He barely had time to reset his stance before she was attacking again, and Claude felt obliged to try and return the favor.

He really did try, too. As their fight continued, he threw out sucker punches and leg sweeps, grapples and feints. He kicked sand in her face and tried to snatch her sword from her hands. He even went for another headbutt. Nothing worked.

He got close a few times, a surprise move making her stumble or almost fall. He got hits in that he wouldn't have, made narrow escapes that he wouldn't have, but it wasn't enough. It was close, though, and close was much farther than he'd gotten before. And, importantly, it was probably much farther than anyone else was going to get in their sparring matches today. So, when she swept his legs out from under him a second time, Claude was happy to rest on his laurels.

"Do you yield?" She asked, lightly smacking his knuckles with her sword as he tried to grab another handful of sand.

She wasn't a shadow looming over him this time. The sun shone on her, gilding her hair even as it highlighted every bead of sweat and speck of dirt. Her face wasn't flushed, and her breathing was nowhere near as heavy as his. She might almost look serene, but he could see the truth from this angle. Her pulse was visible on her throat, rapid and fluttering.

Claude felt himself smiling as he nodded.

Teach offered a hand to help him up, and he took it. Warmth flooded through him from where they touched. He was confused for a second, then the aches of the sparring match started to fade and he recognized the magic for what it was.

"You did well, Claude." She told him, letting go of his hand. The warmth of the magic lingered.

"Thanks, Teach. You're not so bad yourself." He said, giving her a wink. He tapped the side of his neck conspiratorially as he added, "I lost, but at least I made your heart race. I'll take the small victories."

She blinked and his smile widened. Then she said, "I am afraid that you lost twice, then. I do not have a heartbeat."

Claude's smile froze on his face.

What.

Teach's gaze was level, her expression as blank as ever. After a few moments of silence between them, she reached out to pat him on the shoulder. "Still, as I said, you did well." She told him before turning and walking away.

_What._

This time, he said it out loud, but Teach didn't seem to hear him. She was already calling for her next opponent. Mercedes flagged her down to heal the mark on her forehead, and Claude was still just standing there, staring after her in total confusion.

No heartbeat? What was she even talking about?

The sun was beating down on him, which was probably why his face felt so hot. He needed to get some shade. As Claude started towards some, he caught Hilda smirking at him, and he spun on his heel towards the exit of the training grounds.

It would probably be cooler somewhere with fewer people. Yeah. Somewhere cool and quiet sounded perfect right now. He was just going to go, and then maybe consider trying to figure out what any of that meant.

—

Claude ended up not thinking about what had happened for quite a while. Oh, sure, it niggled at him here and there over the next few days, but he had more important things to do. He had classwork to complete, seminars to go to, and chores to finish. There were some books he'd wanted to look at in the library and research to do on the geography of Grondor Field. No matter how much work he did, there was always more.

Or, at least, that had always been the case before. However, a few days later Claude found himself with an irritatingly open schedule. He'd only been working a little harder than usual, but somehow his mountain of responsibilities had evaporated. He was sure it was a mistake at first, but nope. He had an entire afternoon to himself, and when he tried to spend it helping some of his fellow Golden Deer, they told him no.

"You've been so diligent recently, Claude. You deserve the afternoon off. Don't worry about us." Ignatz had told him, and Claude had decided not to try and convince him otherwise.

It wasn't like he didn't want a break, after all.

The weather had turned colder over the last few days, but sleeping the afternoon away was still pretty appealing, so Claude made his way to the forest. The tree Petra liked was secluded from anywhere people tended to head. Some rope and a bowshot later, Claude was comfortably ensconced in its boughs.

The wind whispered through the branches, its chill barely reaching him in his sheltered perch. A few beams of sunlight even managed to break through the canopy, and Claude was quick to find a spot directly under one. He leaned back against the tree's smooth trunk and closed his eyes, settling in for a restful nap.

Around him, the forest sounded gently, soothingly, and Claude quickly began to nod off. As he was just about to fall asleep, though…

_I am afraid that you lost twice, then._

Claude didn't open his eyes. He didn't move an inch, in fact. He was comfortable and drowsy, and he was not going to think about this right now. He was going to sleep.

_I do not have a heartbeat._

Or maybe he wasn't.

Claude sat up, shifting his position so his legs could dangle over the edge of the branch. He fiddled with the rope he'd used to climb up, trying to figure out where to go if his thoughts weren't going to let him rest.

Nothing came to mind. Or, well, nothing came to mind other than Teach's words repeating over and over, making exactly as much sense as they had the first time he'd heard them.

"It was a metaphor, right?" He said, staring quizzically at some whorls on a nearby branch, "I mean, it couldn't be anything else."

Except, since when did Teach talk in metaphor? She was probably the most straightforward person he'd ever known, and far too stoic to mince words. That was one of her good points. Even if her expression was unreadable, you could trust what she said to be sincere. So she had to have been telling the truth then, too. Just... metaphorically?

But if he was annoying her, she would have just said it outright, wouldn't she?

He looked at a sprig of leaves, keeping his face deadpan as he put on his best Teach impression, "Claude, you should remember flirtation has no place on the battlefield."

Yea, something like that, not…

Claude leaned back, letting himself fall so he hung upside down, held up only by his legs. His blood rushing to his head felt oddly pleasant in the moment.

"I'm just_ incapable_ of any sort of human emotion, you see, because I have_ no heart_," he said, melodrama thick in every syllable. There was some bitterness in there, too, and it brought him up short.

He didn't like what thinking about this did to him, and yet here he was, talking to himself like that would get him to the right answer. He glanced around, staring at nothing in particular. His head was beginning to pound.

"I need to ask her, don't I?" He mused.

Even upside down, Claude's heart sank a little at the thought. He didn't really have another option, though. It wasn't like there was anyone else that knew what went on with Teach.

...Wait.

He pulled himself upright, ignoring his lightheadedness as his thoughts raced around one important fact. Or, well, person.

Jeralt.

Claude had been curious to get to know him when he'd first arrived, but the guy was kept busy by Rhea. Any time he'd shown up, it had usually been to talk to Teach before heading out again.

Still, Claude had learned what he could, and it had become pretty clear pretty quickly that Jeralt had secrets and they tied back to Teach. You didn't just fake your death for twenty years for the fun of it. Same with raising your kid to be able to kill ten men in as many seconds, but not know what a Crest was.

His headrush had faded. Claude pushed himself off his perch to land lightly on the ground. Straightening, he started to gather up his rope, nodding to himself.

The more he thought about it, the more Claude liked this idea. If anyone would have a clue about the stuff Teach had said, it would be Jeralt. And if he didn't, well, that was a problem for the future.

In any case, Claude had plenty of things he'd like to ask the guy. Things that were completely unrelated to his current situation. He'd never tried to ask them because it seemed better to wait for Teach to tell him herself, but this question. Well, it wasn't that important. There was no need to bother her about it.

Yeah. He'd ask Jeralt and, curiosity sated, he'd never think about this again.

Decision made, he slipped his bow over his shoulder and began to make his way back to Garreg Mach, a slight spring in his step.


	2. Chapter 2

It didn't take Claude long to figure out his plan for approaching Jeralt. The man came off as a well adjusted person—making him a little unusual in Garreg Mach—and it meant that Claude probably wouldn't need too much finesse to get him in a conversation.

All Claude needed to do was find him, chit chat for a little while, and casually mention what Teach had told him. It would be stripped of context, of course, because that wasn't important, but Jeralt would still be able to give him something. Even if it was just an "I have no idea," that would still be something.

It was a perfectly straightforward plan, and Claude figured he'd finish it during his free afternoon so long as Jeralt was in Garreg Mach.

He probably would have been right, too, if he hadn't forgotten one key part of the plan: needing to speak to Jeralt alone. When Claude finally found him, he was talking to Leonie.

Claude hung back, leaning against a nearby wall and humming quietly as he waited for a chance to present itself.

Given this was Leonie, though, he probably shouldn't have been surprised when she stayed in enraptured conversation with Jeralt for entirely too long. To top it off, before that conversation even ended, Teach strolled up to take her dad and his apprentice to get a meal.

Or at least that was what Claude surmised she was doing from the direction they headed. Once she had shown up, he'd taken it as his cue to leave.

That was a cue Claude got several more times over the next couple days. Whenever he actually succeeded in tracking Jeralt down, Teach had almost always already made her way there. He tried looking at different times of day, but if Jeralt was to be found, it was at someone's side already. If not his daughter, then Alois, or Leonie, or Seteth, or even once Rhea. All people Claude knew he couldn't pry Jeralt away from. It was frustrating, but he knew it was just a matter of time before Jeralt was sent off on another mission, so he had no choice but to keep trying.

One day, right after morning lessons, Claude thought he managed it as he strode over to a seemingly alone Jeralt and struck up conversation. Then the man turned around to reveal Teach standing behind him, and Claude had to hurriedly find an excuse to leave.

It was far from his most elegant escape, and as he made his retreat he could feel Teach's gaze on him. Curious or suspicious, it didn't matter. Either way, Claude was forced to admit to himself that, despite his best efforts, he might need some help with this. Even worse, there was really only one person he could trust to help him.

—

"Hilda, have I told you you're looking wonderful today?" Claude asked, walking to where she was sitting at a table in the gardens.

It was later that day. The afternoon sun was beginning to sink quickly towards the horizon, leaving the gardens in the happy medium of being shaded without having too little light to see by.

"Wow, it's almost dinner and you just noticed? I guess it's better late than never." Hilda said, not looking up from her work— not the work she had been assigned, of course, Lorenz was busy doing her actual chores. Instead, she was focused on painting a small wooden brooch.

Claude sat across from her, careful not to disturb any of the various crafting supplies she'd laid haphazardly on her table. He leaned his chin on one of his hands and put a charming smile on his face as he said, "Well, I'm sorry it didn't come sooner. I don't know what came over me."

Hilda looked up then, pouting slightly as she tapped a finger against her cheek in thought. Then she brightened as if in realization and said, "Oh, maybe it was because you didn't need something earlier?"

Claude's smile didn't flicker, but he mentally kicked himself for leaving her that opening.

"That's not true," he lied. "I just saw you and wanted to let you know. Plus, I was wondering how your day was. Things have to be getting pretty busy with the Battle of the Eagle and Lion around the corner."

Hilda gave a shrug, looking back down at her brooch as she replied, "Whatever you say, Claude. Don't worry about me though. Lorenz is such a sweetheart. I haven't been very busy at all except for the Professor's silly extra lessons."

Claude suppressed a snort. The words "Lorenz" and "sweetheart" didn't belong in the same sentence, but then, that was probably the point. He leaned back in his chair, folding his hands behind his head as he yawned.

He said, "Well, I'd love to be you right now. I've had so much work; it's just exhausting! I can't wait for the battle to be over and us to win so people can settle down again, you know?"

"Mhm!" Hilda said brightly, continuing her work without even a glance to him.

She wasn't budging. Ah well, he might as well get to it then.

"I've been so busy, I haven't really had time to do anything besides making preparations, and I'd really like to." He said, pausing to see if Hilda would give a multi-word response. Nope. He soldiered on, "And I was wondering if you could help me with something I wanted to do."

Hilda looked up, placing her brooch aside at last as she tapped her cheek again, saying, "Me, help you? I don't know Claude. Why would I want to do that?"

Claude ignored her expectant smirk as he said with fake sincerity, "Because I'm your house leader and, as a proud Golden Deer, you'll lend me a hand in my time of need?"

Her only reply was a long, drawn out, "Hmmmmm."

She really wasn't even pretending today, was she? Maybe that meant he should stop pretending as well.

"Alright, alright. I was just kidding. I knew you'd want something for your time. So, I got you this." He told her, pulling out a hair clip from his pocket.

It was made of polished wood, with a brightly painted blue anemone blossom as its decoration. Lacquered and shining, it was the exact sort of trinket Hilda would like. Her eyes even lit up for a second when she caught sight of it.

"Cute!" She told him, getting an impish smile on her face as she added, "Did you get that from one of the Professor's shopping trips?"

It would be so nice if she was a little less perceptive, sometimes.

Claude gave her a mock disgusted look and said, "How can you say something like that? As if I would have Teach buy me a gift for you. She just picked it out. I paid for it."

Hilda looked away, pouting once again, one of her fingers trailing listlessly along the table top as she said, "Oh Claude, I thought you'd learned by now. A gift is nothing if it's not personal. That's why my compliments always come from the heart. Otherwise, I mean, what's the point?"

Claude didn't roll his eyes, but it was a near thing. He'd been hoping the first trinket would do the trick, but he wasn't surprised that it hadn't. He said, "Fair enough. That's why I picked this one out all on my own."

He flourished a second hairclip, made of gilded brass and decorated with a butterfly that had stained glass wings. The glass was backed with foil that gave it a fire reminiscent of real gemstones, and Hilda didn't try to look uninterested anymore.

She held out a hand, and Claude dangled the hairclips over her palm momentarily before pulling them back and wagging a finger at her.

"Uh-uh!" He said, "You haven't promised to help."

Hilda crossed her arms and said, "Well, Claude, if you want a promise, maybe you should tell me what you want. 'Help' is pretty broad, and how am I supposed to know if its worth two dainty little hair clips?"

Claude opened his mouth, but no witty repartee escaped him this time. Remembering their conversation so far, he realized Hilda was completely right. He'd been so eager he'd—well, with two bribes already on the table, she'd definitely be interested in what he wanted.

Great.

But then, she probably would have done that anyway, wouldn't she? Yeah, probably. This was fine.

"Nothing much," Claude said with a nonchalant shrug, "Jeralt is holding a lancing seminar this weekend, and I'd like you to get Teach to leave with you after it's over. You don't have to be there for the seminar, and as long as you get Teach to leave, any excuse is fine. So, it's something short and easy. No big deal."

Hilda's arms stayed crossed, and she leaned back in her seat, looking unimpressed. She said, "If it's so short and easy, why do you need me? Why not get her to leave yourself?"

"Because I need to talk to Jeralt, and I can't be in two places at once, now can I?" Claude said, giving a chuckle for good measure.

Hilda just stared at him, not bothering to hide the judgement. Claude ignored it, but he couldn't stop her from jumping to conclusions.

"I think," Hilda said, uncrossing her arms as she leaned forward again, "that I don't want to help you do something behind the Professor's back. Not for all the hairclips you could buy. So, unless you can give me some more to go on…"

That impish smile of hers was back, and a new spark shone in her eyes: a burning thirst for gossip.

Claude brandished his gifts like a shield, making sure that the sunlight caught in the butterfly's stained glass wings. Hilda glanced towards it again, but her gaze snapped back on him soon enough.

He said, "It's a fact finding mission, that's all, and no I won't tell you what facts I'm trying to find. But, rest assured that I'm not doing anything that would get you into trouble. I just need a private chat with Jeralt."

Hilda was quiet, arching one perfectly groomed eyebrow as she studied him. Her pursed lips and quiet, "Hmm…" might have been performative, but this time Claude didn't think so. This time, she actually seemed to be considering her answer.

It didn't last long, after a few moments Hilda gave a small nod, holding out one hand for the accessories, "Alright. I'll help you, and you can even keep your secrets." She told him, waiting for Claude to drop the hair clips into her hand before adding, "But, since you don't want to tell me why you're talking to him, I'll just make up my own reason. Good luck getting Jeralt's blessing!"

The smile she gave him was so bright it could have lit a room. Claude closed his eyes and prayed for strength.

"I mean," Hilda continued, her sugary sweet voice rushing into his ears like hot sand, "I don't know why you're so focused on it. Isn't eloping so much more romantic? But I'm happy to support you in this, Claude. That's what friends are for. I am really just so happy you're finally dealing with this crus—"

"Hilda." Claude cut her off, opening his eyes. Hilda's smile hadn't dimmed in the slightest, and it widened as he stared at her. After a moment of frantic thought, he returned it with a winning smile of his own, forcing his words to be smooth and playful as he said, "I guess you've found me out. I was going to wait until later, but I might as well ask now. Will you be my best woman? As the leader of the Golden Deer, my stag party needs to be legendary, and you're the only one I could ever trust to organize it."

There was a beat of silence between them as his pun hung in the air like an arrow in flight. Then it hit its mark. Hilda's expression shifted several times before ending on one of mild disappointment and disgust, and Claude found it suddenly no effort at all to keep smiling.

She huffed at him. "Fine! I'll help you with getting the blessing, but that's it. You can organize your own stupid stag party." She told him, carefully sliding the wooden hair clip into her hair. As she finished, she held out her hand to him again, tilting her head as she watched him expectantly.

Claude stared down at her hand in bemusement before looking back up at her. He said, "The hair clip suits you."

Hilda waved a hand, saying, "I know that. I want the other one."

"I already gave it to you." Claude said, his smile dimming as he very carefully did not glance down towards his pockets.

"The other other one, Claude. I have pigtails? I need accessories in pairs." She said, waggling the butterfly clip at him.

Claude thought about pleading ignorance. He was, after all, not someone who wore pigtails, and certainly couldn't be expected to have known something like that. He'd also spent quite a bit on this bribery material, and it would be a shame to use it all at once. Especially for such a small favor.

Then he thought about the fact that Hilda could—and would—definitely start talking about 'blessings' all over Garreg Mach given the motivation, and it became the simplest thing in the world to pull the other two gifts out of his pocket and drop them into her waiting palm.

"It would be a shame for you not to have both." He said agreeably. "Just don't forget to do your part."

"I won't, don't you worry." Hilda told him, slipping the second flowery clip into her hair. She tucked the other ones away into her bag before looking back over at him and adding, "I want you to know, I really do think you're being brave with all this. It can't be easy to talk to Jeralt about marr—"

"Hilda, I don't have any more gifts." Claude interrupted, rolling his eyes.

She looked offended, "This isn't about gifts, Claude. This is about you, and how much you need to know that I respe—"

Claude stood up, the scrape of his chair on the ground enough to cut Hilda off a second time, and she dissolved into giggles as he walked away.

He felt a headache coming on but it was fine. He'd gotten Hilda's help, and he at least trusted her not to spread her nonsense to other people.

Just a few more days and he'd have his answer.


	3. Chapter 3

Claude woke up early the day of Jeralt's seminar; too early. The sun hadn't risen yet, and he was stuck in a darkened bedroom, unable to go back to sleep. He still tried. It was the weekend, after all. If he hadn't chosen to go to the seminar he would've had the day to himself. Still, when he closed his eyes, sleep failed to take him.

This time it wasn't because of annoying memories. No, instead it was a subtle anxiety that had settled as a tension between his shoulders. It was a tension that refused to ease even as he gave up trying to sleep and began his morning exercises. However, no matter how much he stretched, it didn't go away, and Claude eventually gave up trying to address it altogether.

So what if he was a bit nervous? Even if he really shouldn't have been, because it wasn't as if talking to Jeralt was all that nerve wracking of an idea. Sure, he hadn't talked to the man much, especially on his own, but he'd also watched plenty of other people do it again and again over the last week. This really wasn't going to be difficult. He'd gotten Hilda's help. He'd finally be able to talk to Jeralt alone. He'd finally get an answer.

Nothing to worry about at all, really.

Eventually, Claude got dressed in his usual uniform and headed out, wandering towards the training hall. The sun had fully risen by that point, but he found himself ambling past a bleary eyed Sylvain.

"Late night?" Claude asked.

"Always." Sylvain said immediately, but his knowing smile and roguish wink were undercut by a huge yawn. He seemed uninterested in talking after that, and Claude was happy to maintain the silence as they continued towards the training hall.

When they arrived, Claude spotted a few other tired looking students, but only a few. It wasn't every day a legend like Jeralt Eisner held a seminar, and so people mostly looked awake. Other than just students, several professors had joined—including Teach, of course—as well as a smattering of knights. Most of the people there looked like the exact kind of dutiful and invested sort who would have at least one question for Jeralt after class.

Ah well, hopefully they'd have their questions answered during, or just be too tired out by the seminar. Claude figured a man who'd earned the name "Blade Breaker" would go for a hands-on approach.

Claude ended up being right on that, and quickly grew to regret his choice to join the seminar. Sure, it was way less suspicious if he didn't show up after the fact, but maybe the suspicion would have been okay.

Lances weren't his thing. They were big and heavy and they weren't made for slashing. It was all stabs and blocks and bashes, and Jeralt ran everyone through several of each in the so-called warm up section of the seminar.

Claude was breathing hard by the end of it despite his best efforts to appear otherwise. Giving up on that, he tugged at the collar of his jacket, loosening it even more than usual as he tried to cool down. Before he could hope to, Jeralt had moved on, calling for everyone to partner up.

People began milling around and a low rumble of talk filled the area as pairs were decided. For his part, Claude tried to figure out who his weakest opponent would be so he could partner with them. He had lost any commitment to his charade of being an interested lancing student; it wasn't as if anyone was paying particular attention to him among the crowd.

Claude had just noticed a boy at least a couple years younger than himself and several inches shorter when he felt a tap on his shoulder. He turned to see it was Teach.

She stood at ease, holding her practice lance as if she'd been born to it, "Would you like to partner together?" She asked. Her voice was near a monotone as usual, but she looked up at him with a bright, steady gaze.

Claude opened his mouth, but his answer was cut off by the arrival of Leonie.

"Professor! Can I partner with you? Captain Jeralt says he can't because he and Alois have to lead the group." Leonie said, marching up to the pair of them—though Claude might as well not have been there with the way she was wholly focused on Teach.

Eagerness radiated out of Leonie like a miniature sun, and Claude could only imagine how much being able to beat Teach in front of Jeralt would make her month. It was almost a pity it wasn't going to happen.

If Teach noticed that burning excitement, she gave no sign. She just glanced between the two of them, hesitating. A small line appeared between her brows as she looked at him, and she tilted her head a bare few degrees in a silent question.

"Don't let me stop you," Claude said, flourishing towards Leonie as he added, "She'll put up a better fight than me, anyway."

Teach considered this a moment, before giving him a single sharp nod and turning to Leonie. The pair quickly disappeared into the crowd, and Claude was left to his own devices.

It seemed that the weak opponent he'd spotted earlier had found a partner already. As he looked around for someone else, he caught sight of Lorenz heading right towards him. Lorenz was radiating an energy not too different from Leonie's, and Claude immediately looked away.

"Ingrid!" Claude called the moment he caught sight of someone familiar, "So good to see you, want to be my partner?"

He might have sounded a bit too excited about the prospect, considering the look she shot him. But then she glanced past him and he watched the comprehension dawn on her face.

"Sure," Ingrid said, "I was waiting for Sylvain, but it looks like he started chatting up a girl instead."

"His loss." Claude said with a grin as he pointed her in a direction opposite from where Lorenz now stood, looking equal parts disappointed and annoyed.

A little less than a minute later, and everyone had been partnered up. Claude had gotten his breath back by that point. He didn't have it for long, though, as Jeralt began to lead the seminar again.

Ingrid didn't have a vendetta, but she wasn't the weak opponent Claude had been looking for. Over the next hour or so, he had the pleasure of getting two lectures—one from Jeralt to the class, and one from Ingrid just to him—as he was shown every weakness he had with the lance. By the end of it, Claude was bruised, tired, and happy to never pick up another polearm as long as he lived. But the seminar was over, and that was a gift in itself.

Claude busied himself putting away his equipment. Not long after, he saw Hilda stroll in, fresh and rested and having completely skipped the seminar. She threw him a smile as she made a bee line for Teach. He didn't hear their conversation, but soon enough the two were walking away, with Hilda giving him an uncomfortably obvious wink over her shoulder before they moved out of sight.

Luckily, no one seemed to have noticed her less than subtle expressions, and Claude's way was almost clear. He just had to wait out the overachievers and their lancing questions. They cleared out soon enough. With the pressure of other people wanting to ask something, no one bothered trying to bend Jeralt's ear too long.

Finally, the last one wandered off, and it was just the two of them.

Jeralt didn't seem to notice this at first. It wasn't as if Claude had been hanging around too closely, after all. However, the man looked up as he approached.

Claude had never seen much family resemblance between Jeralt and his daughter. He was tall and broad shouldered, with square features and deep set eyes, none of which Teach had. When Jeralt's gaze settled on him, however, Claude finally found a link. The man had a stare as steady and intense as Teach's. Or maybe Teach had a stare like Jeralt. Either way, that bit of familiarity was oddly comforting, and he gave the man his second most charming smile.

"Captain Jeralt, good morning!" Claude said, coming to a stop in front of him, "I'm—"

"Claude von Riegan, right?" Jeralt finished for him, "I don't think Byleth ever actually introduced us, but she's talked about you. What do you need?"

Jeralt's expression had warmed, his slight smile revealing deep crow's feet. It would've been the perfect moment to segue into questions, but Claude was caught up with what the man had said. Teach didn't talk much, so the idea of her talking _about_ someone and not_ to_ them was a little mind-boggling. What would she have even said?

It took Claude a moment to realize why that must've happened. When he did, he almost laughed at himself. He'd come dangerously close to overthinking it.

"Ah, yea. I guess a house leader would come up a lot. All good things though, I hope?" He asked.

"From what she's said, you're smart enough to know the answer to that." Jeralt replied, returning his attention to his lance.

So no.

Or yes, because that was what Claude wanted the answer to be, and here was Jeralt giving him free rein to decide the truth. It would be a shame to assume the worst.

Claude gave an agreeable laugh before deciding to put the conversation back on track. He said, "Well, it's good to actually meet you, then! Though, I have a question now if I'm honest: If Teach has been telling you about me, I wonder if you wouldn't mind telling me about her?"

Before he could say anymore, Jeralt looked up at him. The movement was too quick, too sharp. Maybe Jeralt realized that, because his narrowed expression became impassive but for one lazily arched brow. When he spoke, it was with an equally unconcerned voice, "Interesting question. What, are you trying to get blackmail material? Fishing for some embarrassing childhood stories?"

"Embarrassing stories? Yes. _Please_ tell me." Claude said immediately, not having to fake his excitement.

Jeralt's eyes widened, then he laughed. It didn't sound faked in the slightest, and it was a little while before his laughter faded. When he met Claude's gaze again it wasn't with suspicion or faked disinterest, but obvious amusement. It was obvious in his voice as well as he said, "Not happening, but good try."

Claude put on a show of looking disappointed—it wasn't hard—before saying, "Alright, fair enough. What about things that aren't blackmail related, then?"

Jeralt still looked amused and he shrugged, saying, "Depends on your questions."

Perfect.

"Okay then," Claude said, pretending to think before continuing, "Well… I guess there's something that comes to mind. I remember once, Teach said she 'didn't have a heartbeat.' I couldn't really ask her at the time, but it just seemed like such a strange thing to say. Do you know what that's about? Is it a saying or something?"

Lies mixed with truth were always the easiest to tell, and this time was no exception. Claude made sure not to look away mid-sentence, either, and so he was able to catch Jeralt's amusement fade for a moment, the man's expression one of surprise and concern. Then his earlier good humor seemed to return, but Claude could see that his smile no longer reached his eyes.

"She said that, did she." Jeralt replied with a small, probably forced, laugh, "How'd you end up talking about such a strange thing?"

"Oh, we were sparring." Claude said, folding his hands behind his head.

It was true enough, but he wasn't sure if Jeralt was buying it. Or, rather, Claude wasn't sure if Jeralt wanted to buy it. But after a beat of silence, the man seemed to accept the answer.

Jeralt rubbed the back of his head, sighing as he said, "Well, if she told you that, I suppose it's fine. But don't go spreading this around, okay? If I hear about it, I'll know who started it." The last wasn't delivered threateningly, but it didn't need to be.

It wouldn't have mattered either way though, because Claude's "Yes, of course!" came out before Jeralt had even finished his sentence.

Claude had thought through myriad possibilities over the past few days. He recalled them all now in a flurry, wondering which one had been right. It turned out: not a single one of them.

"It's not a saying. Byleth said that to you because it's true. She doesn't have a heartbeat." Jeralt told him, his answer somehow more ridiculous than what Teach has said in the first place.

What.

Claude must have spoken that thought aloud, because Jeralt chuckled and nodded, saying, "I can see why you thought it was something else, but no. She was just stating a fact. I know it's odd, and because of that I'd rather you not tell people about it."

Odd? What an interesting way to put something so completely impossible. Claude almost wanted to call Jeralt out for trying to pass off such an outrageous lie to him; except it wasn't one, was it. About anyone else, Claude would have never believed it, but Teach, with her forgotten crest and legendary weapon? What was one more thing.

_I am afraid that you lost twice, then. I do not have a heartbeat._

She'd just been being honest. It didn't mean a single thing besides that.

The tension that had knotted itself between his shoulders unravelled as a surprising amount of relief washed over him, and Claude laughed at himself. Of course, of course that was the case. Since when did she lie?

"And here I thought she was rejecting me." Claude said, still laughing a little.

The words—the _joke_—just slipped out, and Claude was too busy reveling in having an answer to notice. For a couple seconds, anyway.

Then Jeralt said, "Sorry?"

"Huh?" Claude replied, trying not to sweat as Jeralt looked at him.

The man was staring at him with an intense, uncomfortably familiar gaze, and not just because it reminded Claude of Teach. It was the look of an epiphany, and Claude didn't like it one bit. It meant Jeralt was definitely overthinking this.

"Why did my daughter tell you she didn't have a heartbeat, Claude?" Jeralt asked, straightening to his full, towering height.

Claude did his best to remain casual as he took a step back from the man. Every bit of tension that had disappeared was returning with a vengeance, but Claude thought he sounded surprisingly calm as he said, "Well, like I said, we were sparring. But I really do appreciate you answering my question."

"That's nice." Jeralt said, "You know, there's a way for you to pay me back for doing that, because I have a few questions for—"

"_And_," Claude interrupted, just managing to keep the panic out of his voice, "I really don't want to take up any more of your time, so—"

Jeralt cut him off, "Don't worry about it. Anyways you—"

"Should be going; I agree!" Claude finished, spinning on his heel. As he began to swiftly walk away, he said over his shoulder, "I know you're a busy man so I will leave you to it!"

Claude only made it a few steps. Then Jeralt's large, gauntleted hand fell on his shoulder. The man's grip was light and not the slightest bit painful. Even so, it set off every single warning in Claude's head, and whatever Jeralt tried to say was lost as Claude bolted.

Jeralt tried to stop him, but he was just left with an empty jacket as Claude slipped out of it and kept running.

As Claude rounded the corner, he threw a single glance over his shoulder and caught a glimpse of Jeralt. The man was just standing there, staring after him. Even from this distance Claude could see the utter shock on his face.

"Thanks again!" Claude called out, giving him a wave. Then the corner was past him and Jeralt was out of sight. Claude decided to keep running, just in case Jeralt changed his mind once the shock wore off.

—

Jeralt never ended up chasing after him.

Eventually, Claude was able to turn his sprint into a stroll and meander his way back to his room to find a new jacket. Whoever might have seen his madcap dash didn't matter because, without Jeralt charging after him, he could make any excuse he wanted for why he'd been running. By the time he'd left his room, Claude had already thought of a fair few reasons.

It had been a nice day; he'd just been enjoying it. Or maybe his legs had felt stiff and he'd gone on a run to loosen them up. His jacket? Well, he'd been feeling overheated after the lancing seminar and he must have left it somewhere. Or maybe he'd ripped it by accident and had taken it off to get fixed.

It was fine. Like many things in his life, lying had gotten him into this and it would get him out of it, too.

However, over the next few days Jeralt kept showing up.

Apparently the man didn't have any duties at all because, whatever Claude did, Jeralt would show up at least once or twice during the day. If Claude was unfortunate enough to see him in a corridor, Jeralt would try and flag him down. A few times in the dining hall, Jeralt just suddenly appeared and took a seat across from him. The man would say things about "wanting to chat" and he'd have the gall to look offended when Claude found a way to escape. Jeralt even showed up once after lessons, and Claude ended up having to crawl out through a window to avoid him.

The whole thing was ridiculous. After all, Claude hadn't done anything wrong this time. It was just a joke! He doubted Jeralt would accept that, though, and he wasn't about to be interrogated for a slip of the tongue. Jeralt would give up soon; it wasn't as if he had any other choice. Claude wasn't going to let himself get caught.

But, as had been happening way too often lately, Claude had forgotten one very important detail: there was someone else Jeralt could talk to.

It happened a few days after the seminar. Teach had pulled him aside after class to discuss strategies for Grondor field. The conversation was going well, actually. Claude had been putting on a brave face for everyone about their chances because he knew that was expected, but he hadn't been completely confident. He knew that his House was strong, but it wasn't as if they'd been the only ones training all year.

Teach was sure, though, in that quietly serious way of hers. She always was when it came to battle. Whether it was training or pitched fights, she spoke of victory like it was a certainty, and it was becoming more and more difficult to imagine it any other way. They made a good team, after all.

Claude was about to say something to that effect when her eyes slid away from his to stare at a point over his shoulder. He turned his head, following her gaze. Jeralt was walking towards them, a familiar jacket in his hands.

"Fa—" Teach started to say, but Claude was already turning around to cut her off with a quick excuse.

"Ah, Teach. I just remembered I forgot to do some homework. I need to go do that, bye!" He said, already walking away.

"No need to leave on my account, Claude," Jeralt called after him, still striding closer as he continued, "In fact, I'd it appreciate if I could talk to both of you."

Claude pretended he didn't hear him. Teach did not.

"Father, what is going on? Where did you get that jacket?" She asked.

There was a slight pause, then Jeralt replied, "You know, that's an interesting story, and since Claude is leaving, I guess I'm the only one who can tell you."

Claude stopped, but only for a second, because when he looked back they were both staring at him. Two steady, piercing gazes that already seemed to see too much.

His skin was starting to itch under his collar, heat rising up his neck, and the only thing Claude wanted was to go. So he did.

Whatever Jeralt had to say would just be nonsense, anyway. Teach wouldn't even need him there to know it wasn't true.

Right?


	4. Chapter 4

It took Claude all of ten minutes to realize his mistake. Unfortunately for him, that wasn't soon enough. By the time he managed to hurry back to where he had left Teach and Jeralt, they were already gone.

He stood there for a good while, staring blankly at the space he'd last seen them.

His thoughts didn't race, they crawled. That didn't bother Claude one bit, though, because he'd be perfectly happy to never have another one. After all, just then every single thought of his was wholly focused on how much of an idiot he'd been.

"I wonder," he murmured, "If I could have made myself seem _more_ guilty."

It was always possible. As he stood there, Claude was able to think of a few ways. He could have told Teach to "Not to believe a word he says." He could have run away instead of walking or tried to get Teach to leave with him. He even could have stayed and tried to convince her that Jeralt was lying.

Actually, the last one didn't sound much worse than what he'd ended up doing, because then he would have at least known what they'd said.

"Do I just leave the academy, now?" He asked himself. It was completely ridiculous, of course, but it was so nice to fantasize about not having to face the consequences of all this.

But no, he was being ridiculous. Claude couldn't keep running off; there was no way he would avoid Teach like he had Jeralt. He was going to have to talk to her and explain himself.

How, was the question, because he had no idea what he would have to explain. What had Jeralt told her?

It was hard to imagine because just thinking about it was like being shot by an arrow made of pure embarrassment. Still, Claude tried. He kept trying through the rest of the day as he attended to his chores, doing his best to draft an acceptable explanation.

He slowly went through what had happened. It all went back to what Teach had said to him about her heartbeat. After that he'd been worried, hadn't he? He'd thought he was bothering her, and that was completely reasonable, wasn't it? No one wanted to be a bother, at least not like_ that_.

Yes. Yes, that was it. It had worried him, and he'd wanted to figure out if he was right before he talked to her about it. He could have definitely figured out another way; that was true. So this was his fault, but sometimes people made mistakes.

A good example of that was Jeralt, who had misunderstood him. It was perfectly okay though; miscommunications happened sometimes. Claude would be happy to explain that and, unlike her father, Teach wasn't one to jump to conclusions. She would see his side of things. After all, Jeralt had probably said something ludicrous during their conversation earlier.

It took until evening, but Claude was eventually able to convince himself of all this. It was going to be perfectly fine. He knew what he could say to her the next day. His explanation and apology would be perfect, and they could all just move past this.

Then, as he was getting ready for bed, there was a knock on his door.

Claude opened it without a second thought. Teach was standing there, his jacket folded neatly in her arms.

Claude slammed the door shut.

He didn't mean to, not really. He just saw her and suddenly the door was closing, and _she_ certainly wasn't the one doing it.

She got her foot in the way just in time. There was a dull_ thunk_ as the door stopped against her boot.

Claude yanked the door open just as sharply as he had shut it, saying, "Sorry! I— are you alright?"

Teach's eyebrows had arched just enough to crease her forehead, but she sounded perfectly calm when she said, "I am fine, do not worry. I am sorry if I startled you."

"No no, you didn't," Claude said with a breathless laugh, waving away her apology with the hand not clenched around the door. He continued, "Did you come to give me my jacket? Thanks!"

He held out his hand for it, but Teach just looked at him and said, "I wanted to talk to you, as well. May I come in?"

No.

He almost said it. An excuse rose to his lips instantly, and he wanted so much to use it and buy himself a little more time to think, to plan, to… avoid her. He wanted to avoid whatever this conversation would be.

"Please?" She asked after a beat. Her gaze was as clear as ever, unclouded by annoyance or frustration. It took him aback, and Claude was sharply reminded that avoiding her was what had gotten him into all of this in the first place.

"Yes, of course." Claude said, pivoting to gesture grandly around his room, "Make yourself at home."

She walked in. Claude quickly—and quietly—shut the door behind her.

He stood still there for just a moment, taking in a silent breath as he schooled his expression into one of his usual easy smiles. His shoulders were squared, tensed; he forced them to relax. Then, he turned to face her.

Teach had taken a seat on the edge of his bed. Her back was straight in her usual perfect posture, and she had laid his jacket across her knees. She was staring down at it, and he couldn't see her expression. Claude grabbed his chair to sit across from her.

Neither of them spoke at first. Claude because he had no idea what to say, and Teach because… well, he wasn't sure.

He watched her tug lightly on the jacket's collar, smoothing away a wrinkle. Then, she took a deep breath before looking up at him to say, "I wanted to apologize to you on my father's behalf."

Claude blinked.

"Excuse me?" He asked.

Teach nodded—to what, he had no idea—and continued on, the words flowing together with the ease of something obviously rehearsed, "He should have come himself, but you were clearly uncomfortable earlier today and I did not wish that to happen again. However, I wanted you to know that he understands his mistake so you do not need to worry anymore."

Despite the fact he had no idea what was going on, Claude did suddenly find himself worry-free because Teach was sitting there, tugging at his jacket in what he now realized was nervousness, spouting an apology she must have been thinking of for quite a while.

He almost wanted to play along and see where this conversation would lead, but he was already farther ahead than he expected to be. There was no need to go back to digging himself a hole, so he said, "Sorry Teach, I'm lost here. What did he do?"

"I— is this a joke?" Teach asked, the corners of her mouth tipping down in a small frown. She picked up his jacket, brandishing it at him as she continued, "He yanked this off of you. That is completely unacceptable. It is no wonder that you would not want to be around him after that."

Claude leaned back in his chair and smiled. He would have said something, but now that she had begun to talk, it looked like Teach had plenty more to say. He saw no reason to stop her.

"He had no idea what you have gone through with the attempts on your life. Of course, he still does not. I would never reveal something you told me in confidence, but when he spoke to me, I knew why you ran. I hope it did not bring up any painful memories for you." She told him, her shoulders slumping a few degrees.

The whole time she had been talking Claude had been watching her expression change. It happened several times. Slight flickers of emotion that, with anyone else, he might have dismissed, but on her they were impossible to ignore. So impossible that he almost missed what she was saying altogether.

"It didn't." He said, quick to fill the silence his inattention had caused, "Teach, you don't have to apologize. I never thought Jeralt was going to hurt me."

She blinked, saying nothing at first. When she did speak, it was with a surprisingly soft voice, "Really?"

Claude paused, remembering the image of Jeralt bearing down on him. When the man's hand had landed on his shoulder, he'd acted on instinct honed by exactly what Teach was talking about. But, if he thought back to that moment, all he could recall feeling was sheer panic at the idea of having to continue that conversation. Nothing else.

"Yes. I mean, I wouldn't think a Knight of Seiros would just go around attacking students. But also, he's your father, of course he wouldn't hurt me." Claude said with a laugh.

"Oh," she said. "I am glad to hear that."

Then she smiled at him.

Ever since meeting Teach, Claude had wondered how she would look smiling. He'd tried many times to get her to as well, but the closest he had ever come was a few lines at the corner of her eyes as they crinkled in amusement.

He'd thought it might look awkward on her, an unnatural expression for her unsmiling face.

It did not.

No, it didn't look awkward at all. It was soft and sincere and… cute. She was cute when she smiled. Actually, if he was honest, she was cute pretty much all the time.

_Oh no._

It was as if he had been walking along a cliff edge and the second that thought came to mind, a sudden gust of wind sent him tumbling over into open air.

She didn't give him any time to recover, either, because she went on, "Then, perhaps this goes without saying, but I still want to tell you: You are my student, but I also consider you a good friend. One I want to keep after your time in Garreg Mach is over. Neither my father nor I would ever harm you, least of all over a joke."

Her smile had faded, and the sweet words were said with her usual over-seriousness. That didn't lessen the impact though, because Claude knew she meant every word of it. That she'd likely meant every word she'd ever said to him.

What a wonderful thing it was to be able to trust another person; if only he'd been smart enough to do it earlier.

Claude laughed. He couldn't help it. It was just too ridiculous._ He_ was too ridiculous.

When had this happened? When had he changed? It had to be him, didn't it? Teach— _Byleth_ was as she'd always been. Stoic and strong and on his side.

She'd been on it since the moment they met, sticking her neck out for three nobles she knew nothing about. She'd protected them, him, with her life, and every day since she'd been an unflagging a source of support.

Even now, when he'd been a complete idiot for days because he couldn't find the courage to talk to her, somehow she had found a way to cut through the knots he'd tied himself in with a few words.

He should have realized it earlier, but at least he did now: it didn't matter what he did or who he was, she was on his side. And he…

He had it bad for her.

That revelation was followed closely by another: just because he knew she'd be on his side didn't mean he should test that. Especially by doing stupid things. For example, getting so caught up in his own thoughts he laughed in her face after she said something nice.

He stopped laughing.

Teach's face was perfectly blank, not a sliver of emotion on it. Claude could've kicked himself.

"Sorry, Teach! Sorry." He said, raking a hand through his hair, "I wasn't laughing at you, I promise. That— what you said, it just made me realize I've been a fool. Still am, actually, since I went and confused things again."

Her eyebrows raised in obvious surprise, but her gaze didn't narrow; she didn't frown. As far as he could tell, she believed him.

_Right. She trusts me, too._

The thought was a warm one, but he refused to be distracted by it. "What I should have said was that I feel the same as you. I wasn't sure what it would be like at Garreg Mach, but now I can't imagine not having come here.

"I'm looking forward to the rest of the year." He grinned, "Who knows, maybe by the end of it you'll be able to tutor me out of my foolishness."

The self-deprecation worked as intended: the corners of her eyes crinkled.

"I am only able to teach you things, Claude. I cannot change who you are." She said, startling a laugh out of him.

"_Wow_." He told her, putting a hand to his chest in mock offense, "I'll have you know that's entirely fair and also, you're free to go back to not knowing how to joke at any time."

"I will keep that in mind." She replied, the corners of her eyes still crinkled. It wasn't a smile but that was fine. He'd have plenty of time to see one again.

It was a relaxing realization. He might have been able to enjoy it if Teach hadn't chosen that moment to remember something.

She had looked back down at his jacket, clearly about to give it to him. Then she paused, her head tilting something obviously crossed her mind.

"If I could ask, since you were not scared of my father, why did you keep…" she appeared to search for the right word for several seconds before saying delicately, "...tactically retreating... from him?"

Claude, who had been handed the perfect excuse not minutes ago and thrown it aside for the idiotic reasons of honesty and clearing up misunderstandings, did not answer at once.

For a bare instant, he considered continuing being honest. It had worked out pretty well so far.

_Well you see, I have a crush on you and I was pretty sure he'd figured that out._

Yeah, no. No, no,_ no_. Not only was that the most embarrassing—and unromantic—way he could imagine confessing his feelings, but, just because he was being honest with himself now didn't mean he needed to immediately tell her.

Luckily, he'd spent all day thinking about excuses. He brought one up now as he remembered something she'd said earlier about a joke, "Oh, that? Well, after my little quip he got very serious. I didn't want to answer a bunch of silly questions, so I left. Then, the thing with my jacket happened and it seemed like a bad idea to talk again since I thought it would be more of an interrogation."

Claude might have held his breath as he finished the lie, but Teach was nodding even before he was done. His conscience twisted a bit at her easy acceptance, but not enough that he wanted to change his story.

"Ah, yes. I understand." She said, "I would tell you that those fears were unfounded, but that would be untrue. He did not know your habit of dodging questions; it made him very suspicious."

Before he could respond, Teach held out his jacket to him and continued, "It does not matter anymore. He is enlightened, and maybe this situation has done the same for you. I hope that the next time you have questions you will just ask me instead."

There was no trace of reproach in her smooth expression, but Claude still winced.

He covered it with a smile and took his jacket back. "I will, don't worry. I'm sorry for not doing it in the first place."

It felt nice to tell her the truth, the whole of it. Claude found himself looking forward to the day he could do it more often.

Teach nodded, sharp and precise. "Consider yourself forgiven. Even if I was annoyed, I think this situation has already given you more trouble than I would ever care to. But, I have taken enough of your time."

Claude's smile turned crooked.

"You can take as much of my time as you want." He said before he could think better of it.

He had a split second to wonder at his own decision making, considering how much of a headache the last line he'd dropped had caused.

But, this time, Teach didn't say some cryptic fact that sent him on a wild goose chase. Instead, her lips twitched—just the once, but he still saw—as she stood and replied, "Even so, it is getting late. I should leave you to whatever I interrupted."

Claude would have stood with her, but Teach, quick as always, had already reached the exit by the time he would have gotten to his feet. If it was someone else, he might have thought she wanted to get away. Knowing her, she probably figured she was being polite by not making him to stand.

"Goodnight!" He called after her.

Teach had already opened the door, but she paused in the threshold to look back at him. The hall behind her was dim, putting her in sharp relief against the brighter light of his room. She stood, poised, her gaze going directly to him.

_Beautiful._

He was finding so many new adjectives to attach to her tonight, wasn't he?

"Goodnight, Claude." She replied. Then she was gone, shutting the door behind her.

Claude was left to his thoughts, and this time he was perfectly happy with that.

He stared down at the jacket still in his hands. The material was soft, clean. One of them must have had it washed. It was oddly thoughtful, which was Teach's forte. Maybe she had learned it from Jeralt, but Claude immediately decided it was her who had thought to do it.

He leaned back in his chair with a sigh that he would have found obnoxiously dreamy coming from anyone else, but just then seemed completely fair.

Over a week's worth of anxiety and self-deception had come undone over the course of one short conversation. Claude felt more relaxed than he had in ages.

_A good friend._

He smiled at the memory. He'd expected to find allies in Garreg Mach, but friends? Claude had hoped for them, sure, but he'd never expected them. The Golden Deer had been a pleasant surprise so far. Even if he still didn't trust them with the truth, he thought he would be able to one day. Teach, though...

Without him even realizing it, his plans for the future had started to include her more and more, like she was a constant he could count on.

The craziest thing?

_One I want to keep._

She was.

—

The Battle of the Eagle and Lion came and went with neither the Eagle nor Lion claiming victory. The strategies that Claude had devised with Teach had worked out quite well. The other two houses were much bigger rivals of each other than of the Golden Deer. Exploiting that had just taken a bit of patience.

Of course, as so often happened with well thought out schemes, there had been mutterings of underhandedness, but that hadn't put a damper on Claude's mood. After all, if the other houses had been gullible enough to fall for the trick then they didn't deserve the victory. Teach had been of a similar mind, and she'd given the Golden Deer a few days off in honor of everyone's hard work.

Claude was spending his free afternoon in the sunshine, preoccupied with nothing more than enjoying his tea. Almyran Pine Needles weren't the easiest to come by in the monastery, but using them to while away an afternoon was perfect. It was also too good of an afternoon not to share, and so when Hilda showed up with her craft supplies and struck up conversation, Claude thought nothing of it.

At first.

Then, she said, "You know, Jeralt asked me where you were last week. Have you decided to take up lancing?" and Claude knew exactly why Hilda had decided to join him.

"No. As sad as it is to say, I just don't have a talent for stabbing people with sharp sticks." He said blandly, "At least, not unless I fire them from a bow."

"Well that's okay! It's always good to know what your strengths are." Hilda assured him. Then she paused, tapping her chin as she pretended a thought had come to her, "Oh, but if he wasn't trying to have a lesson with you, why did he want to talk?"

"You know, I couldn't say. He's kind of an enigmatic guy, don't you think? Who knows why he does anything, really." Claude said, making sure to wait until Hilda had grown bored enough with his nonanswer to take a sip of tea before he continued, "If I were to hazard a guess though, and this is really just me shooting in the dark, it could be because he realized I have a crush on Teach."

Hilda didn't choke on her tea, which was a pity, but it was close. She froze, eyes wide and staring right at him in utter shock, and then frantically swallowed so she could speak again.

"Really? So, it was about blessings after all!" She said with sickening sweetness, "I'm so proud of you."

"Kind as ever, but you're giving me too much credit. The conversation was much stupider than that." Claude said, taking his own sip of tea.

"You? Stupid? That sounds impossible!" Hilda said with so much sincerity Claude half believed it until she continued, "You should tell me about it; an unbiased perspective is the best when judging things like this."

Having already decided that owning his mistakes was the best idea, Claude did actually tell her.

By the time he was finished, Hilda had laughed herself silly at his expense. He didn't mind, though. Now that it was past he was also seeing the humor in it.

"I'm surprised you can show your face after all that, even if the Professor didn't find out." Hilda said, wiping away nonexistent tears of amusement.

"Why? Teach called me her best friend. I'm doing great." Claude replied.

Hilda crossed her arms, "Where did this 'best' friend business come from? I don't remember that."

"Well, I'm glad you asked." Claude said immediately, ignoring Hilda's rolled eyes as he continued, "Teach hasn't called anyone else her friend. So if she only has the one, I'm also the best."

It seemed all Hilda could do to not roll her eyes a few more times as she said, "Claude, that's silly! The Professor lets her actions speak for her. Just because she hasn't said she's friends with other people doesn't mean she isn't! If I asked, she'd definitely say we were friends."

"Very true." Claude agreed, "But I didn't even have to ask."

Hilda stared at him. Claude saw a muscle in her jaw twitch.

He kept nodding, not even trying to keep the grin off his face, "So really, the only thing you can say is we're best friends. After all, Teach lets her actions speak for her. Sometimes by literally speaking."

Hilda opened her mouth a few times. Each time, words seemed to fail her, and each time her skin came a shade closer to matching her hair. Then, she gave a long, defeated sigh, and said, "You know, I really thought I'd be happy when you weren't being a dork about this, but now we're here, and you're exactly as dumb but in a different direction. I liked it better when I could tease you."

Claude shrugged, "Well, I like it better knowing I like Teach, so that's not happening."

"Ugh, you're so embarrassing! When you get over her, I'm going to remind you of all the corny stuff you said. Just you wait, Claude!" She told him with a huff.

Claude just laughed because, despite what Hilda might have thought, he was pretty sure it wasn't just some schoolyard crush.

He was right; Hilda never got to enact her revenge.

But, six years down the line, she_ did_ get to be his best woman.


End file.
